


Rain on My Parade

by myowneviltwin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bucky Hates Parades But Likes Clint, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Holding Hands, M/M, Steve Rogers Is So Done, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers is Sick of Your Nonsense, Steve ships it, Swearing, Too Many Fire Trucks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myowneviltwin/pseuds/myowneviltwin
Summary: "Be in the holiday parade, they said. It'll be FUN, they said."Bucky suffers through the indignities of riding the Avengers float in a holiday parade, which include: being wet and cold, wearing a transparent poncho, and the threat of being serenaded by Clint Barton.(Rated T because of all the swearing, sadly not for any more exciting reasons.)





	Rain on My Parade

The first drops of rain weren't a surprise, exactly - in Bucky's mind, they were more like the bullshit icing on the crap cupcake that was sitting on an ugly float, waiting for a stupid parade to start.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he exclaimed, facing skyward.

Clint gaped open-mouthed, then pointed childishly. "Cap! Bucky said a swear!"

Steve sighed, shook his head, and offered Clint and Bucky cheap, clear plastic ponchos, before unfolding his own.

"It's pretty light rain," Clint said, hopefully. "Maybe it'll stop before --"

He was interrupted by a clap of thunder, as the drizzle suddenly turned into a brutal downpour. He hurried to get his poncho over his Hawkeye gear.

Bucky clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt, then gave in to the overwhelming temptation. "Son of a --!"

"Come on, Buck, there's kids around." Steve looked at Bucky with an expression that was more pleading than stern.

"Fine! I won't say it! But I will be _thinking_ it _really loudly_." 

How the fuck did he get stuck on this gaudy, tacky, god-awful parade float anyway? Steve was great at this kind of shit, and he was someone people actually cared about seeing. Who would be excited about seeing him? Nobody. He was a sidekick at best and at worst? He didn't even want to think about that. He honestly wouldn't blame people if they threw tomatoes. Did people still do that? But Steve had said that he had to do it because it was his first year as an Avenger, and besides, some of the team had loved ones they wanted to spend the day with. The only loved one he had was Steve... Oh, who was he kidding? He could've fought it, he could've glared and put his foot down and flat-out refused. But when Clint smiled his goofy smile and said, "C'mon, Bucky, it'll be fun!" he realized he couldn't say no. He still glared, though, and rolled his eyes, before finally huffing out a reluctant, "Fine."

"It's not so bad," said Clint. "You gotta be used to braving the elements, right? I'm pretty sure it wasn't seventy degrees and sunny on all your sniper missions."

Bucky glared at Clint and wondered what was making him act so goddamned cheerful. It wasn't the same thing. On sniper missions, he was alone, not stuck a hideous parade float, surrounded by tacky Christmas-themed ephemera, wearing a garbage bag with sleeves, and being stared at by thousands of screaming people. "Any chance they'll cancel this thing? Call it on account of shitty weather?"

"This isn't so bad, at least it's not snowing this year," Steve remarked with his eternal, annoying optimism. 

"Right, because freezing rain is such an improvement. What kind of idiot has a parade at the end of November?"

"It's a Christmas parade, Buck, when do you think they should have it?"

"I _don't_ think they should have it! Period! Who the hell enjoys standing around outside in the rain and wind and cold, getting trampled by the crowd and assaulted by loud-ass noises and horrible holiday songs, and pelted with soggy candy? Don't these people have anything better to do than catch hypothermia while watching grown-ass people make idiots of themselves?"

Clint and Steve just laughed at him.

"I promise I won't make you come next year," Steve said in a consoling tone.

"I am going to hold you to that. Clint, you're my witness. Steve said I don't have to come next year."

Clint moved closer to Bucky, and spoke just loudly enough for Bucky to hear him. "If the crowd and the sirens and shit are really screwing with you, you can tell Cap, and he'll let you go home. He doesn't want you to be miserable. Well, he doesn't want you to be _intolerably_ miserable, anyways."

Bucky contemplated Clint's very tempting offer. If he left now, he could be back at the Tower in an hour, he could take a warm shower, heat up some cider on the stove, and hide in his bedroom alone the rest of the day. But he somehow felt like that would be admitting defeat. He couldn't let the stupid parade beat him. Besides, Steve would make his Understanding Face. Ugh. No. That simply wouldn't do.

"No, it's fine. I just can't stand this stupid song, and they've played it fifty times, and it's so damn catchy it'll be in my head now until freakin' _Easter_."

"Aw, you don't like Mariah Carey? I bet I can change your mind about this song." Clint sank to his knees in front of Bucky and took a deep breath. 

"Barton, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm about to serenade you, asshole."

"Don't you fucking dare, you crazy bastard!"

"Crazy _romantic_ bastard, you mean," Clint corrected, looking up at Bucky adoringly through his eyelashes. Clint had always acted like he had a few screws loose, but this was way over the line. Fortunately, Steve intervened.

" _Stop fucking swearing, you assholes_!" Steve hissed, before grabbing Clint's arm and hauling him to his feet. "Do I have to send you to opposite sides of the float? This thing is about to start any minute. Put on your damn ponchos, smile, throw the candy, and act like heroes already!"

Bucky and Clint looked at each other. "Aw, you made Dad angry," Clint whined.

"That was nothin'. This one time, in France --"

"Shut your mouths before I hang you both upside-down by your ankles over the edge of this float! _I mean it!_ "

"How would that even --?"

"One of your ankles in one hand and one of yours in the other."

Both doubted Steve could achieve such a feat, but decided not to test him. 

"Sorry, Cap."

"Sorry, Steve."

Clint smiled at Bucky. "Once this thing actually starts, it goes pretty fast. The route is pretty short. It's just all the sitting around and waiting that feels like it takes forever."

"Yeah. Look, can you just cool it with the... whatever you're... doing?"

"Gonna need you to use some more words, there, sweetheart."

" _That_. That thing. The... names, and the singing, and..."

"Oh." Clint tried not to let the hurt show on his face. "Sorry. Yeah, I'll stop. I didn't mean to offend your... old-fashioned sensibilities, or whatever."

"What?"

"I should've known you wouldn't be..."

"What?"

Steve sighed and looked at Bucky. "Clint thinks you don't want him to flirt with you because he's a guy," he explained.

"It's not 'cause you're a guy!" Bucky practically yelled.

Clint didn't really find that reassuring. "Oh, okay? It's just me, then? Uh... great...(?)"

Bucky hesitated. Would it be worse to humiliate himself with the truth, or to hurt Clint by not correcting his assumption?

Steve, however, had already had enough, and decided for him. He turned to Clint. "Bucky thinks you're kidding, when you hit on him. He wants you to stop because he thinks you don't mean it."

Clint looked slowly from Steve to Bucky. He raised his eyebrows at Bucky, asking for confirmation. Bucky reluctantly nodded. Clint swallowed hard. "And if I _do_ mean it?"

Bucky searched Clint's face, but he seemed sincere. His smile was small and crooked, a little nervous, but hopeful. "You're still not allowed to serenade me," Bucky said, smiling back. "Not in public, anyway."

"Oh, it's finally our turn!" Steve jumped up and handed the bags of candy to Clint and Bucky. He took his to the opposite side of the float. 

"Why do they keep letting fire trucks in front of us?!? And that one's from New Jersey! What, they don't have their own damn holiday parade, they gotta crash ours?!?"

Clint and Steve laughed, and Clint tentatively linked his free hand with one of Bucky's. Bucky smiled involuntarily, then glanced at Steve to see if he'd notice or say something. "Are you sure this is allowed?" Bucky asked Clint, quietly.

Clint beamed at him. "Do you really care?"

Bucky smiled wider. The float finally started to creep forward.

"I bet I can hit more people with candy than you can," Clint said with a hint of challenge in his voice.

"The targets _want_ to be hit, how is that a challenge?"

"It's harder than you'd think, you'll see. If you throw too much at one kid, half of it ends up in the gutter."

"Yeah, and no kid wants to eat gutter candy," Steve added.

"Gutter Candy - that'd be a good name for a punk band," Clint mused.

"You've got my dominant hand, but I don't have yours. So, you've got the advantage. And you've done this before."

"I could let go," Clint offered. "To make it more fair?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nah. I'll still kick your ass anyway... sweetheart."

The rain finally stopped, and even though he was soggy and cold and wearing a trash bag, Steve didn't have to remind Bucky to smile, not even once.


End file.
